


Ladders

by EmmaArthur



Series: Whumptober 2019 [12]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Accident, Alex Whump, Broken Bones, Canon Disabled Character, Chronic Pain, Fluff, Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 10:57:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21035117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaArthur/pseuds/EmmaArthur
Summary: Alex falls down a ladder.





	Ladders

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober day 12: **"Don't move."**
> 
> This is set a month after Stitches (day 11) and a few months before All Of You (day 1).

“Hey, can I come down?”

Michael looks up from his work to see the hatch open and Alex looking at him from above. Since his friends learned about his bunker, he's gotten used to leaving the Airstream off the entrance when he's inside, as long as it's outside Sanders' opening hours.

“Sure,” he says with a smile, looking back down. He needs to finish this calculation before he looses the thread. He only needs a minute, then he can give Alex his whole attention.

He hears Alex start to come down, and he rolls his pencil between his fingers. If he adds velocity here, then maybe−

The crash makes him whelp, and jump into action. “Alex!”

Alex isn't moving, prone on the floor under the ladder. “Fuck! Alex!”

“Nggg,” Alex mutters.

Michael reaches him. “Are you okay? Don't move, just tell me where it hurts.”

Alex moves anyway, struggling to sit up. Relief floods Michael. At least he hasn't injured his spine or something.

“I think my arm's broken,” Alex says, cradling said left arm with his other hand.

“Don't try to move,” Michael repeats. “I'm calling 911.”

“No,” Alex shakes his head, leaning against the bottom of the ladder. His face has lost all color, and he can't help wincing with every move.

“You need a hospital.”

“Well, yeah, but you can't let paramedics in here, and it will be quicker if you drive me.”

“You're sure?”

Alex nods. “I just need to get back up,” he says, motioning to the ladder. “I slipped.”

Michael curses internally. He should have seen this coming. Alex is never very stable on the ladder with his prosthetic, and it rained earlier, so the first rungs must have been wet from his own trek down. He should have met him upstairs. “I can levitate you,” he offers.

“You can really do that?”

“I'll be really careful,” Michael promises.

“I trust you,” Alex gives him a strained smile.

Michael smiles back. “Let's do this. Sit up a bit and try not to move on the way up, okay? The more still you are, the easiest it is for me.”

Alex nods. A small pained sound escapes him as Michael first moves him, and he slows down immediately. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. Just get this over with. Uh, that's weird,” he adds, when his body fully leaves the floor.

“Is it?” Michael asks, distracted. All his focus is on keeping Alex stable and floating him up without injuring him further.

When Alex is above his head, looking more than a little tense, Michael starts climbing the ladder behind him. He takes his time moving Alex, not wanting to risk dropping him, so it's at least a full minute before Alex is safely above ground, sitting on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Michael asks while closing the hatch.

Alex makes a face, looking sick. “I will be,” he says. “Help me up, I'll walk from here.”

He holds out his uninjured arm to Michael, so Michael pulls him up as gently as possible, catching him when he stumbles. “Thanks,” Alex murmurs. “Fuck, this really hurts.”

“Let's get you to the hospital,” Michael says.

On the way to his truck, and then into town, Michael can see Alex's face get even paler, as he closes his eyes to try and contain the pain. “We're almost there,” he updates Alex through the journey. “Five more minutes.”

His wishes their arrival to the ER was the end of the pain, but Alex has to suffer through two hours of waiting for his turn. He's given oral painkillers after a while, but they don't seem to be very effective.

“My tolerance is too high,” Alex explains through gritted teeth. “Since I already take them for my leg.”

Michael realizes, with no small amount of guilt, that in the months since Alex has come back, he's never truly asked about his injury. He's seen Alex pops pills occasionally, and remove his prosthetic after a long day, but that was it. He didn't try to know how much pain Alex is in at any given time, and Alex never gives anything away.

Now is not the time to ask, though. He wants to take Alex's good hand in his to show his support, but its cradling his arm, so he puts his hand on Alex's thigh instead. Alex gives him a strained smile.

When Alex is finally taken for X-rays, Michael finds himself idle in the waiting room. He tries playing on his phone, the smartphone Alex got him back when they started dating four months ago, but he can't seem to focus. He keeps hearing the thud and cry Alex made when he fell down the ladder.

The rush of fear at Alex's _I'm alright_ followed by _I'm at the hospital_ last month when he got injured going after alien hunters on his own.

The look on Alex's face when he stayed behind on his own in Caulfield to meet whoever was going to find them. _I'll take care of this. _And then, so much worse, Alex refusing to leave when the building was about to explode.

Ten years of wondering if he'd read in the newspaper one day, or hear through the grapevine, that Alex Manes, Roswell-born Airman hero, died overseas.

Jesse Manes ' hand around Alex's throat.

Michael bites his index finger, hard, when he feels tears coming. Why is he so emotional? Alex is going to be fine, it's just a broken arm. But there's a knot in his throat the size of a golf ball.

Alex comes back an hour and a half later, with his arm in a sling, covered in a blue cast up to his armpit.

“Blue?” Michael asks with a small smirk, because it's easier to joke than to try to untangle his feelings.

“Classic,” Alex shrugs. “White seemed too bland. I wanted to go emo to remember the good old days, but they were all out of black.”

Michael raises his eyebrows, because Alex almost never jokes about their teenage years. There's too much trauma attached, at least for the two of them. He's heard him banter about it with Maria and Liz, and it never seems to bother him then.

“It suits you,” Michael shrugs, for lack of a better comeback. He's still rattled, and he's pretty sure it shows.

Alex's frown is a confirmation. “It's a cast, not a new jacket,” he says.

“And you're stuck with it for what, six weeks?”

Alex's eyes go down to Michael's hand, and Michael winces, realizing that he just exposed his own intimacy with broken bones. Untreated broken bones, even, since Alex knows very well he's never been to a doctor.

“Something like that,” Alex shrugs.

“You must be tired,” Michael says to cover his embarrassment. “I'll drive you home.”

“Thanks,” Alex says, following him to his car. “Uh, that's going to be annoying.”

“What?”

“Can't drive.”

“Oh, right. I guess you can...” Michael hesitates. “I can drive you?”

“Not everyday,” Alex answers. “I mean, thanks for offering, but my place is so far out of town, and you have a job.”

Michael opens the car door for Alex, giving himself time to answer. Alex folds himself into the passenger seat with a wince.

“Does it still hurt?” Michael asks.

“Some. The painkillers helped a bit, and it's better now that it's immobilized, but it's really sore.”

Michael nods and goes over to the driver side. They stay silent for a while, as he starts the car and gets it out of the hospital parking lot.

Michael repeats his sentence several times in his head before he dares saying it aloud. “I could move in with you.”

“What?”

“Just long enough for you to heal and be able to drive,” he clarifies. They've spent more than one night at Alex's cabin, but the possibility of living together hasn't been brought up yet. Maybe it's too early. It could be amazing−or it could destroy their relationship. “It would be easier that way.”

Alex doesn't answer for a moment. “Okay,” he says finally, biting his lip.

“What's bothering you?”

“I don't know. You're right, it would be easier. Being down two limbs isn't going to be easy, so I could use the help.”

The edge of−what, annoyance maybe?−in Alex's voice is still there, but Michael lets it go. Alex didn't immediately shoot down the idea, so that's something. They can talk about it more when they've had time to think.

Alex doesn't say a word for the rest of the drive.

“Can I?” Michael asks later, gesturing to Alex's cast. They've made it to Alex's cabin, where Alex seemed to unwind a bit. It's been a long day, and it's not even six yet. Alex is lying on the couch with his head on Michael's lap, his arm on a pillow and the sling discarded.

Alex nods. Michael takes his hand gently and strokes the edges of the cast, where it meets the base of Alex's fingers. “Ew, it's rough,” he says, feeling the rigid fiberglass.

“You've never touched a cast?”

“Nope. Max and Isobel never broke a bone, and I...well, anyway, I never really had other friends, so−”

Alex closes his fingers around his. It's his left hand, the one that Max recently healed, and although the scars and the deformation are gone, Michael can still feel the pain sometimes, like his mind hasn't caught on yet.

“My father knew this doctor at the hospital,” Alex says slowly. “I don't know what he had on her, but she never said anything when I showed up with bruises or broken bones. But she knew it was him. Everyone else just believed me when I said I was clumsy.”

“They shouldn't have,” Michael says.

“Just like no one should have let you live in your truck at seventeen,” Alex shrugs. “We got what we got, right?”

“I guess,” Michael sighs. He runs his hand down the length of Alex's cast, up to where it ends several inches above his elbow.

“I'm sorry,” he says.

“For what?”

“When you fell, I wasn't paying attention, I could have caught you.”

“Michael, it was an accident!” Alex exclaims.

“Yeah, but I shouldn't have let you come down. I knew it was wet, and ladders aren't easy for you−”

Alex scowls. “I'm fine, okay? Just−stop,” he says, his face set. He sits up brusquely, only barely wincing when it jostles his arm.

“But−” Michael starts, surprised.

“Please.”

“Okay, I'll stop,” Michael raises his hands in surrender. “But−why are you so angry?”

“I−” Alex starts, clearly to deny it, but he stops himself. “Sorry,” he deflates.

“Alex, tell me what's wrong. Please.”

Alex sighs. “I'm just−I hate this. Not being able to move like I want, I feel like I'm back when I lost my leg and...I hate it.”

“It's just temporary,” Michael says, trying to convey his compassion through his eyes.

“Yeah, I know, but−it's embarrassing,” Alex admits.

“You're embarrassed? Why?”

“I don't know. I've just been...I've been trying to prove that I don't need to be coddled, that I can still take care of myself, and then I go and fall down a stupid ladder−”

“It could have happened to anyone!”

“That's not the point!” Alex explodes. “The point is, you're apologizing and looking at me like I'm fragile, and I can't stand it, okay?”

“Shit,” Michael murmurs, suddenly feeling awful. “Shit, Alex, I didn't mean to do that. I don't think you're fragile. Yes, I admit that I think about how some things must be harder for you, mostly to be amazed at how easy you make it seem, but−you know, actually, I think we do need to have a conversation about that, but first, let me clear the air.”

“Michael, you're rambling,” Alex says, almost smiling.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is, me, all of us, we see you as nothing less than badass, Alex. Disabled, yes, but a badass. You've adapted, and we can all see that you try really hard. Too hard sometimes.”

“I don't−”

“I'm never going to think less of you because ladders don't agree with you,” Michael adds, not letting him deny it.

Alex actually snorts at that.

“Lie back down,” Michael tells him. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too,” Alex smiles, obeying.

“So I'm going to help you do−whatever, for the next six weeks or so, and I'm not going to think that you're fragile, or incapable. Is that what you're afraid of, that I'll see something I might not like?”

“I don't know,” Alex sighs. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you've seen a little, you've seen me remove my prosthetic and walk on crutches, but that's...easy. We had sex, you saw my stump, and now you've stayed over a couple of times. You haven't seen the rest of it.”

“Then what is the rest, Alex?” Michael asks softly. “Because...maybe I can imagine−probably not, I'm sure there's a hundred things I've never thought of, but we'll never know unless we try. I'm not gonna run away.”

Alex closes his eyes, as if it's easier to talk about it if he doesn't have to look at Michael at the same time.

“Well, there's...showering is hard enough, but it's going to be a real bitch with this cast. And I won't be able to use crutches, so I don't even know how I'm gonna move.”

“We'll figure it out,” Michael says.

“You haven't seen me on a bad day,” Alex sighs.

“You mean when you're in pain?”

Alex sighs. “Yeah. Well, more pain. Some days it's just...it doesn't let up, and there's nothing to be done about it.”

Michael squeezes his shoulder.

“How much does it really hurt? Your leg,” he asks.

“On a good day, it's manageable without painkillers,” Alex says. He doesn't elaborate more, but it tells Michael everything he needs to know, what he's been letting himself ignore. There's no such thing as zero pain for Alex.

“Next time you go down a ladder, will you be offended if I'm ready to catch you?” he asks. He's careful not to show it's not a lack of trust, not a _I'm never letting you down a ladder again._ “You kinda scared me today.”

“I kinda scared me, too,” Alex mutters. “I think I'm gonna stay off ladders for a while,” he adds, gesturing to his cast.

“Yeah, that might be best,” Michael smiles.

One day, he'll tell Alex about how fucking terrified he is of losing him.

But maybe not today.

**Author's Note:**

> I realized after I'd written all this and yesterday's fic (Stitches) that they could probably ask Max to heal Alex, but I kinda hate "magical healer" deus ex machina. So I guess my headcanon is that Max is super tired since he was brought back and can't heal very easily anymore.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little bit of hurt/comfort!


End file.
